Won't You Be My Neighbor
by Jennifer Hart
Summary: He wasn’t going to leave her behind. Set PreSeries.
1. Night

**Title: Won't You Be My Neighbor**

**Rating: T**

**Classification: Mystery/Angst**

**Spoilers: References made to information learned on Hiatus and Hung Out To Dry**

**Disclaimer: My therapist insists that I do not own NCIS**

**Summary: He wasn't going to leave her behind. Set Pre-Series.**

Chapter 1: Night

Going sledding in a toybox down a flight of stairs." Shannon shook her head. "I know I put my parents through some scares, but I never tried that one."

"Nope." Gibbs sighed. "Me neither."

Their eyes drifted over to where their five-year-old daughter Kelly lay fast asleep in a hospital bed. A white swatch of gauze covered the gash and stitches on her temple, while her arm and broken collar-bone where wrapped securely in a sling. Shannon just sighed.

"At least the pain medication finally kicked in."

Gibbs winced. The sound of Kelly's cries still echoed in their ears. "And I thought it seemed long when I was the patient."

Shannon snuggled closer to him, or as close as she could in the hard plastic chairs. "You never did tell me how you broke yours."

A faint grin stole across Gibbs' face. "Well, it wasn't trying to go sledding."


	2. Neighbor

"Jethro! Hey, wait up!" The 10-year-old stopped in the driveway and watched as the redheaded girl came running across the lawn.

"How come you didn't pick me up?"

"You didn't give me a chance!" Jethro protested. "I just got out the door."

"Oh, right." She adjusted the straps of her schoolbag. "It's been so long since you were early that you forgot what to do."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, since you seem to have all the answers, how come you weren't out here first like you usually are?"

"The dog got sick while I was eating breakfast again and Mom wouldn't let me leave until my oatmeal was gone." She made a face. "You try finishing your breakfast when it looks like what the dog just brought up on the rug."

Jethro shrugged. "My dog never gets sick when I'm eating." He grinned. "Maybe yours thinks the oatmeal looks as gross as you do."

He was promptly rewarded with a playful slap on the back of his head, something his friend had seen on TV and picked up just for fun. He attempted to return the gesture, but she easily dodged out of reach.

"You aren't supposed to hit a girl." It was her standard when he tried that. So was his response.

"You're not a girl." He smiled at her. "You're my friend."

That was something Jethro didn't think he'd ever say when he'd first met Shannon McCarthy three months before. He hadn't been real happy to learn that the only kid in his class at his bus stop or even on the same bus route was a girl. He'd been even less thrilled when she consistently beat him in the weekly math quizzes. That wasn't exactly new ― most of the girls and some of the boys usually beat him in math. It was just that Shannon did it by getting 100 pretty much every time. Besides that, she read _Nancy Drews_. Probably _Elsie Dinsmores _too. When they'd been picked as Annette and Lucien in _Treasures of the Snow_ for the Christmas play, he hadn't had much trouble pretending to dislike her. It was the scene where they were supposed to become friends that he had trouble with.

Then his parents had invited Shannon's parents over for supper, and naturally they'd brought her. The first hour, where they were supposed to be playing together in the backyard before supper, was a nightmare. Then, during the meal, her mother let it slip that Shannon was grounded. And when he asked her about it after, he'd found out that she'd snuck into the school after hours while sleeping over at a friend's who lived nearby and that they'd spied on the janitor. That sent her up a couple of notches in his estimation. When she told him that she read _The Hardy Boys_ as well as _Nancy Drew_, that sent her up a little more, especially when she added that she wouldn't dream of touching _Elsie Dinsmore_. And when he'd shyly showed her how he'd started carving little wooden boats ever since reading about Lucien's carving hobby in the _Treasures of the Snow_ play, and even showed her his most recent effort, and she'd actually been interested and hadn't laughed...well, that was it. They were friends for life.

They two fifth-graders walked towards the bus stop at the end of the street, passing the home of Mrs. Clark on their way past. Despite the cold January weather, the older woman was out in the front yard, cleaning up brush from the snow-covered flowerbeds. Shannon lifted up a hand in greeting.

"Good morning, Mrs. Clark!" she sang out. Jethro followed suit.

"Morning, Mrs. Clark!" The woman didn't turn around. It was the same response they'd gotten every day over the last two weeks, ever since she'd moved in. Jethro and Shannon exchanged glances.

"Nice and friendly, isn't she?" Shannon remarked. Jethro just rolled his eyes.

"You think?"

"Oh, you want to stay away from her."

Both children looked up. Collin Harms, an eighth-grader, was coming towards them from the bus stop.

"Why?" Shannon asked, her voice non-committal. Collin grinned.

"She's a murderer." He looked over their heads and back to where the older woman was still kneeling over the flowerbeds. "She poisons people. Buries them in her root cellar."

Jethro sighed, and Shannon just glared at the older boy. "Oh, give me a break."

"No, it's true. Remember when I was sick last week?"

Shannon snorted. "Of course ― it was the most peaceful bus ride I've ever had."

"Jackie Gunderson from my class stopped by with the homework assignments. On her way out, she stopped to talk to Mrs. Clark, and the old lady invited her inside for some hot chocolate." Collin leaned closer. "Jackie hasn't been back in school since."

"You're insane," Jethro snapped. "Jackie and her family are moving to Denver. Everybody knows that."

Collin shrugged. "They aren't supposed to go till next week."

"Well, maybe they went early," Shannon retorted. Just then the bus pulled up behind them. Collin shrugged again.

"I'm just saying, if I were you, I wouldn't keep trying to say 'Hi' to her. Because sooner or later..." He leaned right in next to their faces. "She's going to say '_Bye_' to you." He quickly bounded up the bus steps and headed for the back.

Jethro stepped back to let Shannon get on first, then sat down in the front seat beside her. "You didn't actually believe him, did you?" he asked her.

Shannon gave him an indignant glance. "What? No!" Her eyes focused on his face. "Why? Did you?'

"Of course not," Jethro said quickly. Shannon nodded in satisfaction and turned to look out the window. Jethro glanced back over his shoulder at Collin, who was now laughing loudly with some other kids in the back of the bus. In a softer voice, Jethro repeated, "Of course not."


	3. Nonchalance

Chapter 3: Nonchalance

"Okay, so tomorrow, your practice test on graphs is due, and we will be having the End of Unit 3 Test in Science," Mrs. Chaikin announced. "And just a reminder, your explorer reports are due on Friday, and we will be having a test on them on Monday. Other than that, that's it. You're free to go. See you tomorrow."

It was a couple of days later, and the room was filled with a chaos of noise. 25 fifth-graders frantically grabbed textbooks, notebooks, and other papers, and started jamming them into their backpacks, chattering to classmates in the process. Mrs. Chaikin raised her voice to be heard over the din.

"Oh, and I need your permission slips for the trip to the Museum tomorrow too!"

Jethro caught up to Shannon on their way out the door. "So much for any free time tonight."

She rolled her blue eyes. "You mean you're not done your Explorers report?"

Jethro looked over his shoulder at her as he bounded up the stairs. "You are?"

She shrugged. "I'd better be. I won't have time tonight." She plopped down into the seat beside him. "Mom wants us to go over to Mrs. Clark for coffee and dessert after supper."

"You mean she actually got Mrs. Clark to talk to her?" Jethro quipped. "What's her secret?"

"You're not actually going to go are you?"

Both children looked up to see Collin Harms, leaning over them as he mounted the bus. Jethro sighed. "None of your business, Collin."

"Oh, you'd better make it your business, Jethro," Collin shot back. "That is, if you ever want to see your little friend again." A boy behind Collin gave him a nudge and he started forward down the aisle.

"Drop dead, Collin!" Shannon called after him. Collin turned back and grinned meaningfully.

"You first."

"Stupid jerk," Shannon muttered as she turned back to face the front. "Can't wait to get on the bus tomorrow and shut him up once and for all."

Jethro managed a chuckle. "Like your mom would be taking you if there was anything to worry about."

0

The bus pulled to a stop on Shannon and Jethro's street and they stood up, then started down the stairs. Collin was right behind them.

"Well, Shannon, it was nice knowing you," he remarked mockingly. The redhead glared at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Collin snorted. "Sorry, I don't believe in ghosts." He started across the street before either Jethro or Shannon could respond. The two exchanged looks of frustration, then started walking towards their homes.

"So you're going after supper?" Jethro asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Shannon nodded. "Want to come over after and play if it's not too late?"

"Wanting to make sure I'm still alive?" Shannon teased lightly. Jethro chuckled and ducked his head.

"I want to hear what Mrs. Clark's voice actually sounds like," he told her, keeping his voice playful. "Besides – you usually come over after supper."

"If you don't come over to my place," Shannon pointed out. They'd reached the driveway to Jethro's home by this point and they both stopped. Suddenly Shannon reached out and grabbed her friend's arm.

"Hey. You're not worried about me, are you?"

Jethro stared at her. "What?" Shannon looked him in the eye.

"I'm serious," she said quietly. "Are you worried about me?"

Jethro met her eyes for a moment, his expression unreadable, then turned his head slightly and chuckled. "Shannon. Come on. Collin Harms is an idiot," he said quickly. After a second he looked back at her. "Are you scared?"

Shannon giggled softly, then bit her lip. "You didn't answer my question."

"Yeah, well, you didn't answer mine," he retorted, relieved to be back on their familiar teasing ground again. He started backing up the driveway. "I'll see you later." He turned around and started walking towards the house.

"I'm going to be fine, you know!" Shannon called after him. Jethro turned back to face her again and she smiled. "I'll see you after supper."

Jethro smiled back — a smile, not a playful grin like before. "See you then."

She nodded, still smiling, then turned and continued watching. Jethro watched her for several seconds before reluctantly turning towards his home.


	4. Nervous

Chapter 4: Nervous

"Jethro, time to get ready for bed."

Jethro looked up at his mother in shock. "Already?"

"It's after eight." Jethro looked back at the boat in his hands. He was just about finished carving the stern, the last thing he needed to complete before the boat was done. And Shannon hadn't come over. Slowly he got to his feet.

"Let's see," his father said with a smile. Jethro handed it to him. His father raised his eyebrows. "I think this one's good enough to give it a name."

Jethro shrugged. His first three efforts had been okay, but he hadn't bothered to name them, deeming them practice efforts only. He glanced at the window one more time, then looked at the phone.

"Can I just call Shannon first, please? She was supposed to call me back tonight."

"You'll see her at school tomorrow. You can talk to her then," Jethro's father said firmly. "Go on, now."

Jethro reluctantly hugged his parents goodnight, then slowly made his way up the stairs. He could see Mrs. Clark's house through the window on the landing and stopped for a moment to look at it. "Where are you, Shannon?" he whispered.

"Jethro!" His father's voice came from behind him. Reluctantly, the boy started towards his room.

0

Jethro rolled over in bed and looked over at the clock on his nightstand. Almost eleven. He'd heard his parents come up to bed a little while ago. He sighed and flopped over onto his back.

His eyes fell on the outline of his boat, sitting on the chest at the end of the bed. Jethro grabbed the flashlight off his night table and got to his feet. He walked over to his bedroom door and shut it, then picked the boat up and sat down on the floor next to the trunk. Turning on the flashlight he examined the boat again. It would only take a few minutes to finish the stern, and there was no sense lying there when he couldn't sleep. Jethro reached up and grabbed his knife.

Dandy, the family collie, looked up from where he was lying across the room, his eyes attracted to the light. Jethro smiled at him. "Shh."

He worked silently for several minutes, the only sound being the dog's breathing and his knife gently carving the wood. When it was done, he put the knife down and took another careful look at it.

His father was right. This one was good enough for a name. Jethro thought for a second, then picked up his knife and carefully started etching a letter onto the side.

0

"Shannon? Shannon!" Jethro stood on the front doorstep of the McCarthy home the next morning, pounding frantically on the door. "Mrs. McCarthy? Mr. McCarthy?"

He glanced frantically around the yard. The family car was still there. It stood to reason that Shannon should be as well. Unless...Jethro shook his head frantically and pounded his fist on the door again. He waited several minutes, but nobody came to answer. Reluctantly, he started towards the bus stop.

Colin was already there, grinning mockingly. "What did I tell you, Gibbs?" He shoved the younger boy's shoulder.

"Shut up, Colin."

"You're alone." Colin laughed mockingly. "Now do you believe me? Shannon's probably lying in Mrs. Clark's cellar right now — stiff, cold, and dead."

"I said shut up!" Jethro shoved at Colin with all his strength. The bigger boy stared at him for a second, then grabbed the collar of Jethro's jacket.

"Oh, you think you're a tough guy?" He leaned his face in. "Well, if you're so tough, then why didn't you do anything to help your little friend?"

"Hey! Break it up!" The bus driver had pulled up alongside the curb and was glaring at them from his seat. Colin laughed and let go of Jethro's jacket, before bounding up the stairs. Jethro slowly followed.

"You okay, son?" The bus driver was looking at him in concern. Jethro looked up at him.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly. The driver frowned.

"Where's your friend, Shannon? Isn't she coming today?" Jethro just shook his head. "Okay then. Take your seat."

Jethro nodded and slid into the front seat, then turned back to stare at Shannon's home again. A silent tear trickled down his cheek.

0

The instant the bus pulled back up to his street after school, Jethro was on his feet and scrambling down the stairs, nearly falling in the process. The stumble only made him hesitate a second before he continued running down the street and back up to the door of the McCarthy home. Again he pounded on the door.

This time there was an answer. Shannon's father pulled the door open and stared at him quizzically. "Jethro? What's going on?"

"Please, Mr. McCarthy. Is Shannon home?"

"I'm sorry, Jethro. Shannon has gone away with her mother for a few days."

Jethro felt sick. "Where?"

The phone rang from behind and Shannon's father slowly stepped back. "I'll tell her you stopped by when I talk to her." With that he closed the door, leaving Jethro standing in shock on the doorstep.


	5. No!

**A/N: My apologies for the long delay with updating this story. I have had a lot of issues creeping up in my RL to deal with and it's been difficult to write. This story is now complete and I will be posting my last few chapters every couple of days.**

Chapter 5: No!

_356 divided by 14. How many times would 14 go into 35? 3...no, 2 with a remainder of..._

Jethro shoved the math textbook away. There was no point. It was the third time he'd tried the same problem and he still couldn't figure it out, at least according to the answers in the back of the book. If they weren't required to show their work, he'd have just written in the answer and been done with it. Technically that was cheating, but he was sure the teachers would understand under the circumstances. After all, they didn't make you do your homework when you had to leave for a funeral...

"NO!" Dandy let out a startled bark and Jethro whirled around. "Sorry." He held out his hand and the dog rushed up to him. Jethro patted him halfheartedly, before looking out the window again. It was starting to snow.

With a sigh, he shoved his chair back and bounded down the stairs. His mother looked at him in surprise. "Done your homework already?"

"Yeah." The lie was way too easy, although he argued with himself that he wasn't really lying. _He_ was done his homework. It's just the homework assignment wasn't finished, but his mother hadn't asked him that. "Can I go outside and play?"

Mrs. Gibbs nodded. "Sure. Just stay in the yard."

He nodded, pulling on his coat and hurrying outside, Dandy bounding alongside him.

He stopped at the base of the steps before slowly shuffling forward. Dandy scampered ahead, lifting his head up to enjoy the snow, then rolling over onto his back with a happy bark. Jethro managed a chuckle at the dog's antics before his eyes shifted over to look at Shannon's home. Her father's car was gone now and the place seemed deserted. Jethro sighed. "Where _are _you?" he whispered.

He turned around and looked towards Mrs. Clark's house. That was probably his answer right there. Colin had been right all along.

Dandy nudged Jethro's knee and he looked down. The dog was holding his old tennis ball and looking at him expectantly. Jethro accepted the ball and tossed it across the yard before looking back at Mrs. Clark's house. For a change the older woman wasn't outside and didn't appear to have come out at all, since her newspaper was still lying in the bushes next to the basement window where the paperboy had thrown it.

The basement window. Jethro's mind raced and he glanced quickly over at his own home. His mother was cooking in the kitchen at the back of the house, so she probably wouldn't notice him reenter the house if he were quiet. He glanced again at both Mrs. Clark's house and Shannon's, biting his lip, then gave a firm nod.

By this time Dandy had come back. Jethro knelt down in front of him. "If anything goes wrong with this, you take care of Mom and Dad, okay?" The dog looked up at him with solemn dark eyes. Jethro gave him a quick hug, then motioned with his hand. "C'mon. In the back yard."

After Dandy was safely secured behind the backyard fence Jethro slipped back around to the front of the house and cautiously looked in the front window. Perfect. His mother had gone to get something downstairs, now was his chance. He slipped inside the house, up the stairs, and over to his closet, where he kept the flashlight and first aid kit he'd been given at camp. A second later he was back down and out the front door.

Mrs. Clark's front yard was surrounded by a hedge that ran from the backyard to the driveway on both sides. Jethro figured his best bet was to go around back through the alley and come up to the far side, since her place was the last on the block. There was a gap on that side too, which would allow him to slip in and hopefully avoid her seeing him through any of the windows. He quickly let himself back into the backyard and out through the other gate, then broke into a run. "I'm coming for you, Shannon," he muttered. "I'm coming."

Although at ten Jethro was still a good few inches short of the top of the fence, he still ducked when he reached Mrs. Clark's yard. Finally he was at the hedge and the gap. He frowned. The gap wasn't quite as far back as he'd thought. He would still have to cross a good four feet of unprotected yard that was visible from the living room window before he could make it to the wall. He leaned back on his heels, hesitating. Maybe this was a stupid idea.

An image of Shannon's face that last day came into his mind. Nothing was stupid — not if it meant getting her out. And she'd been brave enough to go to the front door. This was the least he could do. He quickly scrambled through the hole and made the short dash to the wall.

To his right was one of the basement windows. Careful to stay out of sight, Jethro glanced down, trying to see in. He could just make Mrs. Clark out in one corner of the room, arranging something on a shelf with her back to the window. Holding his breath, the boy crouched down, trying to see more.

The room looked like his mother's cellar pantry at home. There were jars of what looked like various types of canned food sitting on the shelves, with an opening to the main part of the basement opposite him. And on the wall between the one with the window Jethro was looking through and the shelf Mrs. Clark was working with was an old, narrow brown wooden door.

The root cellar. That's where Shannon and her mother had to be. Jethro swallowed. Colin said Mrs. Clark poisoned them and then buried them there, which meant he was probably too late. Unless...he'd read about slow-acting poisons, where people took days to die. And Mrs. Clark was still fiddling with jars — maybe he still had time.

The question was how to reach it. He was sure there was a basement window to the room, but the partition of fence blocked his view. The fence itself was easy enough to climb, but not when he was trying to avoid being seen. He'd have to either go back through the hedge and go in either over the fence or through the back gate, or go around to the front gate and hope it was open. The latter was probably his best bet. He knew now she wasn't upstairs, so he could easily cross the front yard, and probably even try climbing the fence on the other side if the gate was locked. Jethro nodded to himself, then started to get to his feet.

He took an unconscious step back for balance, the sole of his shoe meeting a section of ice right behind him. His foot promptly went skidding back as the rest of him hurtled forward, his full weight coming down on the arm he'd instinctively thrown out to protect himself. A sharp bolt of pain jolted through the bone just above his chest as he landed on his side with a thud.

For a second he laid there, not moving and just trying to catch his breath, his blue eyes staring at the window in front of him. And the elderly woman looking up at him through it, a startled expression on her face.

He gasped and scrambled to try and get up, only to fall back with a cry as pain shot through his shoulder again. His vision started to dim and he tried to take a deep breath. Mrs. Clark was on her way outside. He had to get out of there. But he couldn't seem to get his limbs to move...


	6. Naiveté

Chapter 6: Naiveté 

"Okay now, hon, everything's okay." Mrs. Clark hurried across the lawn towards him, some kind of bag in her hands. "Just stay right there and try not to move."

_I don't think so_, Jethro thought grimly. He struggled to sit up, only to fall back again with another yelp.

"Easy, easy, it's all right." The older woman had reached him now and was kneeling down next to him, putting a hand on his good shoulder. Instinctively Jethro shied away.

"Stay away from me!"

"It's okay. I just want to see how bad you're hurt." She searched his face and gave him a little smile.

"I'm fine!" His shoulder was killing him, but there was no way he was just going to let her touch him with whatever she had in that bag while he was even close to conscious. "Where's Shannon?"

"You're the Gibbs boy from down the street, right?" Mrs. Clark asked. "Jethro, is it?"

"My Mom knows I'm missing," Jethro warned her. "She's probably calling the police right now. You won't get away with this."

"All the more reason to get you fixed up so we can get you back to her. She's probably worried sick." Mrs. Clark gave him another smile. "You know, I've got some hot cocoa inside the house. I can make you some after we call your mother to let her know you're okay."

"Like the stuff you gave Shannon, and her mother?" Jethro shot back. Sweat beaded across his forehead. "Where are they?"

The older woman sat back, startled. "You mean, Shannon McCarthy?"

Jethro gritted his teeth. "Yes."

"Shannon's father picked them up from my place yesterday evening." She slowly sat back on her heels. "I take it Shannon wasn't at school today." The boy just glared at her and she chuckled softly. "Is that why you were looking in my basement window? You were trying to find your friend?" He didn't answer.

"I'll tell you what, Jethro," Mrs. Clark offered. "All I want to do right now is see how badly you're hurt. But I can see you're scared of me for some reason. Now I don't want to leave you alone, but if you really want me to I can go get your mother. Or, I can just have a look now and maybe bandage you up, and then we can go together." She pulled a white strip of cloth from her bag. "I promise. All I'll use are these bandages. No medicine."

Jethro hesitated. He was starting to get tired, and his shoulder hurt so much it was hard to think. Mrs. Clark had had plenty of time to kill him by that point or drug him or whatever she did, and she hadn't. She hadn't gotten mad at him for looking in her window either. All she'd been was really nice. And right now, all he wanted was for shoulder to quit hurting, and maybe she could really help with that. Finally he nodded. "You can look."

"Thank you, Jethro." She carefully unzipped his jacket and eased him out of it, talking all the while. "So, you were looking for Shannon and her mother, and yet you didn't come to the door. Were you afraid to ask me? Maybe you'd been told some stories about me?"

Jethro flinched as she carefully examined the area around his shoulder and collar with her hand. "Ooh. Looks like you might have broken your collarbone."

"They can't cast that, can they?" Jethro asked in surprise. Mrs. Clark shook her head.

"No, but they can put it in a sling, which will help take some of the weight off and help it to hurt a little less. In fact, I can put one on right now for you if you'd like. Can you sit up?" She carefully helped him into a sitting position, continuing to talk as she did so. "You know, I used to tell my friends stories about the neighbors sometimes. How the man next door ran a gang of pickpockets like Fagin's and the couple on the corner did experiments on people in their attic...all kinds of stuff like that. And now I write about them."

"You write about _us_?" Jethro couldn't help but feel fascinated. "Like what?"

"Oh, not about my neighbors specifically. But I write stories about people I make up." She wrapped the cloth around his arm as she talked. "You ever read _The Hardy Boys_?"

Jethro grinned. "All the time."

"Well, I write mystery stories like that, only for grown-ups." She finished tying off the not. "There we go. Does that feel a little better?"

"A little." He looked up hesitantly. "Do you ever..._kill_ people in your stories?"

"Sometimes. Or have someone bury a body in their basement." She winked at him. "You know, when my son was your age, he used to tell people that I really killed people and buried them in the basement, not just wrote about it. That one lived on for years in our neighborhood, even after my son had grown up."

Jethro ducked his head sheepishly, and Mrs. Clark burst out laughing. "And I think it's still living on in some places." She helped him to his feet. "Come on, let's get you home."

0

"Okay." Jethro's mother sat down on the side of his hospital bed as his father took a seat in the chair beside her. "Now that we have that taken care of, is there something you would like to tell us?"

The "that" they had taken care of was Jethro's collarbone, which was, in fact, broken. The doctor had replaced the makeshift sling with one of his own and gave orders for him to at least stay overnight.

Jethro swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he answered.

"That's not what we mean, Jethro," his father spoke up. "I have never believed that keeping a child fenced in their yard was the answer. They need room and freedom to explore and play and have fun and in doing so, learn. That is what your mother and I were brought up with and that's how we want to bring you up as well. But with that freedom comes trust. Trust that you will respect some rules, and more importantly, some basic courtesies."

"Such as not trespassing in someone else's yard unless you have been invited or given permission," Mrs. Gibbs added. "This isn't something new, Jethro. We've asked you to abide by that principle since before you first started school."

"Under the circumstances, we believe your actions have brought their own punishment." Mr. Gibbs' voice was sober. "One that you probably won't be forgetting for a long time. And we don't think it's necessary to add to that. But we do believe we deserve an explanation for your actions today."

Jethro looked down at the sheets for a long moment. Finally he looked up at his parents. "It was stupid," he replied. "I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it. I wasn't thinking."

There was a long silence as both of his parents looked at him. Finally his mother said, "That's it?"

Jethro felt uncomfortable. The story sounded stupid and he knew it, but the truth was even more stupid. "Yeah, I wanted to see if I could make it without being seen, like a...a secret mission." He held his breath, hoping his parents would buy it.

They exchanged looks. "I see," replied Jethro's father after a long silence. "Well, we should probably let you get some rest right now. And if you change your mind and want to tell us more about that 'secret mission' we'll be happy to listen."

After they'd gone Jethro looked silently up at the ceiling tiles, trying not to cry. He knew his parents were disappointed in him—he was disappointed in himself. He'd broken the rules, lied to his parents, and gotten himself injured in the process, and all because he'd fallen for some stupid story. And it had all been for nothing.

He looked over at the window, seeing the various building and streetlights shining through the night sky. "Where are you, Shannon?" he whispered. "Where are you?"


	7. Now

Chapter 7: Now

"Well, and how's our invalid doing?" Jethro's father asked as he strode into the living room Monday morning.

Jethro shrugged. "Okay."

"Okay!" His father raised his eyebrows before perching on the side of the couch. "Come on, son – you get a few days off from school, miss the math test, have your mom wait on you hand and foot..." He leaned closer. "It's the situation you dream of, right?"

"Not exactly," Jethro admitted, giving the sling on his arm a pointed look. Mr. Gibbs smiled.

"I broke my collarbone too, in college. Hurts like the dickens, doesn't it?"

"It's not that bad," Jethro said quickly. His father simply looked at him. "Well, yeah, it is." They both laughed. It did hurt, but not as much as the repeated unanswered calls he'd made to Shannon's house over the weekend.

His parents still didn't know the real reason he'd gone over to Mrs. Clark's, or that Shannon was missing. Whenever he'd hung up the phone from trying to call he'd simply told his parents the McCarthy's were apparently not home and they'd left it at that. Jethro knew his mother had noticed something was bothering him because he'd heard her talking to his father, but they both seemed to think it was his injury.

Just then there was a knock on the front door. A moment later he heard the sound of footsteps and his mother's voice saying, "Oh, Jethro's been trying to call you all weekend," and his eyes widened.

"Who's there?" Jethro made a move to get off the couch, wincing in pain and his father put a hand on his arm.

"Easy, you've got to go slow, remember?" Jethro nodded grimly and eased himself into a sitting position as his mother entered the room.

"Jethro, there's someone here to see you."

"Shannon?" Jethro grinned with relief. "Where were you?"

"Mom's uncle died—I had to go to Minneapolis for the funeral." Shannon stared at the sling encasing his arm. "What happened to you?"

"Oh...I just slipped on some ice," Jethro said quickly. He gestured towards a chair. "Have a seat."

"I can't stay long because of the bus, but your mom said you weren't going to school today. Do you want me to bring your homework assignments by after school?"

Jethro nodded. "Sure, that would be great."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"Wait ― before you go, I've got something for you," Jethro said quickly. He started for the stairs.

"I'll get it ― you need to move slowly with that arm and you don't want Shannon to miss the bus," Jethro's mother interjected. "Where is it?"

"On the corner of my desk." Jethro followed her as far as the hall.

His mother came back down the stairs a couple seconds later. "Is this what you were looking for?"

Jethro nodded, grinning, then walked back into the living room. "This is for you." He held out the carved boat he'd finished.

Shannon's face lit up. "Oh, wow!" She took it carefully, gasping as she saw the name on the hull. It read _Shannon_. She stepped forward and hugged him, careful to avoid his arm. "Thank you, Jethro!"

Jethro's eyes widened with surprise as he returned the hug with his good arm. His mouth curved into a little grin as he replied, "You're welcome."

0

"I still wish I could have seen the look on Collin's face when you walked on the bus that day," Gibbs sighed, a grin stealing over his face. Shannon chuckled.

"I thought his eyes were going to bug right out of his head. I don't think he talked to me for a week."

Her husband shrugged. "Wasn't that much of a loss."

Shannon nodded. "True." She looked over at Gibbs. "You never told me that before," she said softly. "That you went looking for me like that."

They looked at each other for several long seconds, not saying anything, before a little smile crossed Gibbs' face. "What can I say?" he replied in a soft voice as he leaned over and kissed her lips. "I don't leave people I care about behind."

THE END


End file.
